Thursday, March 26, 2015

Once upon a time, immediately after moving into my current
apartment, I told a mentor of mine that I was thinking about adopting a
four-legged baby, most likely a cat. She was neither encouraging nor supportive.

“That cat will only hold you back,” she argued, “you’re too
young and unsettled to give up your freedom. Right before you leave town for a
week, 7 out of 10 times, the downtown or Bronx-based buddy who agreed to feed
it while you’re away will dick you over at the last second, mark my words.”
(These are bits and pieces of an impassioned 15-minute monologue, not unlike an
attorney’s closing argument, pleading with a jury to keep a defendant off death
row.) “What you need is a cat room. A
place where you can show up and play with a cat whenever you get bored or depressed
or sick of it all, without being the one responsible for the cat’s welfare.”

Didn’t know such rooms existed (and doubt she knew either)
until skimming an
article in the local paper a couple of months ago. A cat café recently
opened in Chinatown. $4 to spend half an hour in a room with cats. There’s a
waiting list.

I’d been looking forward to it ever since I reserved my spot
in January. On the day of your appointment, you’re allowed to spend morethan
the initial 30 minutes with the cats, but I promised myself I wouldn’t dare because
I’d get too attached and adopt one, something I’m in no position
to do at the moment. It’s like going to a hooker - you get in, collect what you
came for, and get out. Anything beyond that is too risky.

I expected private rooms (one customer in a room with at
least one assigned cat) - the type of delusion that can crop up after you’ve
skimmed, and not studied, an article. There was one room, in total, filled with
many cats and many people. Most of the cats were sleeping. Most of the awake
ones weren’t impressed with us, even me. We were an imposition. It turned into
half an hour of respecting the cats’ personal space.

Dogs would love a room like this. A larger, local, partially
outdoor dog café, nothing too bougie – great idea! But, per usual, another
hustle-happy Manhattanite (or two of them, it seems) has already beaten me to
the punch: See “NYC's First Dog Cafe in Development Now,” available at http://www.amny.com/lifestyle/dog-cafe-in-nyc-1.9814188.

On my way out, a person walking by cornered me about how things
went - her first appointment is next month. I told her it was good, but most of
the cats were sleeping.“But you can still pet a sleeping cat, right?" she asked. "No one
will try to stop you?” Now here’s someone who doesn’t get cats, or animals, or
just anyone really. Would you want a stranger fondling you while you’re sound
asleep?

Sunday, March 1, 2015

My airline wants to know how a recent flight I took went. One question on the survey asked: "What emotion best describes how you felt
when your trip ended?" Myoptions were: "Delighted; Appreciated;
Pleased; Content; Relieved; Indifferent; Disappointed; Hurried; Frustrated; Neglected;
Angered; or Other (please specify)."

Note the conspicuous absence of "All of the Above," as a choice.

A single, one-word answer wasn't easy for someone who brings
a multi-dimensional emotional state to the table. When this particular flight
ended I felt:

Delighted - I was
on my way to hang out with two of my favorite people!

Appreciated- Talk about the "friendly skies."
We passengers gratuitously smiled at one another, loudly but warmly forgiving
any accidental trespasses. Flying to a city located in the Southeast or Midwest
usually involves a whole different caliber of personalities.

Pleased - At one
point, I looked down at my rings, which led to glancing down at the rest of
what I wore. I really hit it out of the ballpark with the ensemble I'd thrown
on that morning. Five stars.

Content - Understatement,
understatement, understatement.

Relieved - Still
couldn't believe I didn't end up missing this flight, given how late I'd woken
up and the amount of unexpected cross-town traffic.

Indifferent - "What
was with the pilot first announcing the local temperature in Celsius degrees,
before slowly translating it into Fahrenheit? " I thought, before
eventually shrugging it off and thinking, "Whatever," as I continued checking
myself out.

Disappointed - We
landed 15 minutes too soon for my liking. I didn't get to finish another
chapter of my book.

Hurried - When I first looked
up after gathering all of my stuff on the way out, I was the last passenger in
the cabin. Everyone else seemed long gone.

Frustrated - This plane was
too small to haul my second carry-on item into the cabin with me, so I had to pass
it over to a baggage handler on the jetbridge. On one of the last flights I took, a flight
attendant-in-training told me about the opening minutes of one of the last
flights she took - the door to the baggage
compartment under the plane hadn't been properly locked, and the pilot turned
around to head back to the airport, once he realized that passengers' luggage had
been falling out of the plane and into the ocean.

Neglected - Another round of seltzer would have been nice.

Angered - Of course, the second-least-likable passenger sat in my
row. She cut in front of me, no acknowledgment, after we both stood up to
stretch and head out.

But since I could select only one
answer, I chose "Other" and specified Hungry.